Another Puzzle Piece
by The Hoodie
Summary: House googles his employees and discovers Chase's secret. House investigates. Chase shares an old secret. Chasecentric goodiness! Not slash, just a little friendship. Little bit of fluff, little bit of hurt Chase. Oneshot.


**A/N: OK, so I know this story is a little off with House's character towards the end, but I love that mushy stuff! I know I kind of went off canon with Chase's past, but I'm allowing myself a little wiggle room... ok, so a lot. **

**Title: Another Puzzle Piece**

**Disclaimers: Sadly, House MD is not my property nor will it ever be.**

**Summary: House googles his employees and discovers Chase's secret. House investigates. Chase shares an old secret. Chasecentric goodiness! Not slash, just a little friendship.**

**Warnings: Mild language**

'Dementia, loss of vision, excessive sweating, fever, and reduced blood pressure.' Silence greeted the listed symptoms.  
House jutted his head out, eyes wide, conveying impatience with his every fibre. 'Aaaaand, any ideas? I was under the impression I had hired _doctors_, not dummies. Well, actually, those do go hand in hand...' he added sarcastically.  
Dr. House's diagnostics team sat at the conference table, puzzled with their latest enigmatic patient. Cameron had her usual 'worry/fret' face plastered on, while Foreman looked indifferent as always. Chase was busy mauling a poor, unfortunate pencil while his eyes seemed extremely interested in the wall.  
House sighed and looked at the ceiling. _I can't believe I pay these morons. Well... Cuddy pays them... but still._  
'Well, while you're busy thinking, Cameron, tox screen on the patient. Foreman, medical history. Chase, get some blood samples.' House drawled while his team rose to fulfill their assigned tasks. That was, his team, with the exception of Dr. Chase, rose.  
'Uhhhh, Chase?' House said stupidly. 'Wakey wakey, busy dreaming about Cuddy in her thong? Aren't we all...' Chase blinked in his assessment of the wall.  
'Chase!' House exclaimed, clearly annoyed. The young intensivist snapped out of his reverie. His eyes were wide and he almost choked on the pencil in his mouth. His face was so shocked House had to bite back a chuckle. 'While you were daydreaming, wittle Chase, your patient coded.'  
'Oh God, you're kidding!?' Chase started, his confused shock turning to panic as he stood quickly.  
'You dumbass, get your act together and go play doctor with your friends. Get a blood sample, you useless moron.' House delivered exasperatedly, rolling his eyes as he walked to his office. Chase stood idly for a moment then swept out of the conference room, his white labcoat fluttering behind him.

--

'I'm not buying you lunch anymore, House,' Wilson said half-heartedly as he stabbed a piece of salad especially viciously.  
'Awww,' House replied, his usual face of disdain present, 'Please mommy?'  
Wilson merely sighed as House dug into what used to be the oncologist's chicken.  
'I don't know why we're still friends...' Wilson muttered.  
'The sex is great? You love my ass? Your wife dumped you? All of the above?' House answered, raising his head from the food. Wilson sighed again and shook his head. It really was pointless trying to get House to act his age.

House finished his last bite of chicken, relishing the taste. He threw the plate down on the desk and spun in his chair to face the computer.

'James... Wilson...' He said while typing on the keyboard.

'Oh God, what are you doing now?' Wilson asked, a hint of worry edging his voice. He leaned over from where he sat to see the computer monitor. 'You're googling me? Dear Lord your patient must be exceptionally dull today.'

'Oh, can it,' House replied, distracted. 'Ha!' He let out triumphantly. 'I always knew you were a porn star, Wilson! Google imaging confirms it!' He said, tilting the monitor so Wilson could see the screen contents better.  
Wilson barely glanced up. 'Hm, because I _am_ the only James Wilson in the world, aren't I House?' Wilson answered, injecting enough sarcasm to make even Greg House proud.  
House scowled then turned his attention back to the screen. 'Allison Cameron...' Wilson heard a click of the mouse.  
'House, please tell me you're not googling your employees?' Wilson asked, already knowing the answer. 'You are so juvenielle! ... What did it come up with?' He asked leaning forward again.  
'Aww, nothing intersting.' House answered, switching to Google web. 'Hey look, it's Cameron... It says she's working at Princeton Plainsborough Teaching Hospital! Why, I oughta! I knew she had other commitments.'  
Wilson rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. 'Amuse yourself, House.' he said tiredly, letting House continue with his antics.  
Within minutes Wilson was hearing all sorts of racist comments after Eric Foreman had been looked up.  
'I wonder what Robert Chase will bring up? Maybe we'll even find Daddy Chase.' House said to no one in particular as he typed in the young doctor's name, hitting enter.  
'Maybe he's a serial killer,' Wilson replied distractedly as he forked his last lettuce piece.  
'Maybe not...' House said, a slight frown creasing his brow as he brought his head in closer to examine the screen. This was too good to be true.  
'What?' Wilson asked, his interest piqued.  
'Sorry, no more computer privileges for you James,' House said with mock sternness. 'You are officially grounded. No car, no cellphone, no internet. This will teach you not to buy dirty magazines, you perv.' House pushed the monitor screen button and the screen turned black.  
'Now, if you'll please,' House said, directing a very confused but very interested Wilson to the door. 'I have some napping to do.'

--

Chase was in Pathology, testing the blood samples he had drawn when his pager beeped.  
He plucked the thing off of his belt and read the message:  
**FAMILY MEETING ASAP!  
**Chase sighed, packed up his stuff, and returned the blood sample before heading to the conference room. Along the way he met up with Cameron.  
'Any luck with the tox screen?' He asked.  
'None, no drugs at all, besides the antibiotics we gave her.' Cameron replied, shutting the folder she was carrying.  
Chase was busy pondering the case at hand when they both reached the conference room. Foreman was already there, leaning against the table. House entered the room from his office and faced his team.  
'So, anything from the Batcave, Robin?' He asked, hobbling over to the white board.  
'None,' Foreman answered, 'The patient's medical history is fine by all means. No serious illnesses in the past...'

This went on for some time, the team sharing their information with House as House continued to ridicule them and shoot down all possible diagnoses.  
'Well, guys, let's think real hard tonight, because don't you forget the story of The Little Train That Could or whatever.' he called as they exited the room to head home for the day. 'I think I can I think I can!' House shouted after Foreman who was ignoring all words from the estranged diagnostician. Cameron smiled and shook her head as leaving. Chase remained indifferent as he headed for the door.  
'Chase,' House said, with enough command in his voice to stop the intensivist from leaving. Chase paused and turned around, his hands on his slender hips, trying to look annoyed. The blonde bangs that fell in his face quickly diffused the intent. He raised his eyebrows as if to say, 'What?'.  
'In my office,' House said seriously, turning his back to the younger to enter his office. Oh, it was just _too_ much fun yanking Chase's chain. The poor kid probably thought he was getting fired somewhere around now.  
How right House was.  
Behind his back, Chase's mind went into overdrive. _Oh God, what have I screwed up this time? I haven't killed any patients for months! Umm, think Robert... Haven't even screwed any tests up! Lord help me._  
Outwardly, Chase kept his cool, as he took a seat in front of House's desk. House sat back in his chair, observing the little Aussie before him. He smiled to the doctor, confusing Chase even more, causing his heart rate to skyrocket in a nanosecond.  
'You know, Chase,' House said, taking his time, picking his words slowly, savoring Chase's anxiety. 'When you turned in your resume, you managed to leave something out.'  
Chase's panic died as he frowned. Now he was _really_ confused. 'Huh?' was all he could manage.  
'Aw shucks,' House said, smiling evilly. 'Let's just google do the talking.' House turned to his computer and turned the monitor on.  
Chase suddenly emitted a strange, inexplicable noise that ranged somewhere from a stutter to a whimper to a cry. His eyes grew as wide as saucers as his mouth gaped.  
'How ... did ... you?' He managed.  
'Oh the internet is a very enlightening place, isn't it?' House smirked and grinned with delight. He moved his mouse to scroll over a video before pressing the play button. The slow, soft music started playing. The screen revealed a camera focused on a huge orchestra situated in a colossal orchestra hall. Strings, woodwinds, brass, and percussion played with passion Brahm's Violin Concerto in D. The music was startling, beautiful and flawless. But that was not what had interested House. It was the figure standing alone before the orchestra. A blonde, much younger, wiry version of Robert Chase stood professionaly before the orchestra dressed in a stunning suit. What was even better was that the young Australian held in his ready hands a violin. Within a few moments, the orchestra died down and the young Chase brought the violin up gracefully, tucking the instrument below his chin and poising his right arm with the bow. His eyes held no nervousness, only passion for the music. He set the bow to string and what House expected to be a cacophonous clash of mess was emitted as a racing scale upwards. Chase's left arm flew away at the violin's fingerboard, reaching the difficult piece's notes with ease, the bow flying with the tempo. Slowing the pace down, Chase's body reflected everything the music had to say. If the dynamics were up, his body moved quickly with the violin as he strung the bow. His body didn't jerk like some violinists', it moved ever so gracefully with the music. He closed his eyes and let the music engulf him, the whole piece memorized in his head.

The present Chase's mouth was still agape at the sight and he turned his attention from the screen to House. House seemed perplexed, staring at the monitor, extremely intrigued.  
He turned and met Chase's gaze. 'Why didn't you ever mention this?' He asked, curiosity overcoming his snarkiness. As the music soared, and the then-soloist Chase hands flew to catch the quick, somewhat harsh notes, he still played them effortlessly.  
'Wasn't in the job description.' Chase answered softly, his shock gone.  
'You have... quite some talent.' House said quietly. It wasn't often he paid compliments. As the music continued to play, House clicked over to another window on the screen, bringing up a picture of a younger Chase again. This time it seemed it was a biography.  
House read from the page. 'Prodigy Robert Chase,' He turned back and shot a glance to Chase. 'You've played the violin since you were six, first orchestral performance at thirteen. This particular piece,' he motioned to the monitor, indicating the playing music. 'Was played when you were fifteen. You played regularly at the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. Even toured at the Orchestre de Paris. Played for 7 different orchestras across the world. Then suddenly at age 18 you give it all up. I assume that's when you left for medical school.' It wasn't meant as a question.  
Chase reveled in his impressive background. When House said it like that, he guessed that he did have some talent.  
'I still play.' Was Chase's only comment. He said it off-handedly, not really meaning anything with it. _I have commitments now, I have a real job, a demanding job now, House, _he thought.  
House remained silent. He didn't know what to think. Chase's obvious talent caught him off-guard. He never expected the intensivist to be _this_ interesting.  
Chase seemed lost in his own thoughts as well. House remained where he was, taking in the beautiful noise that radiated from the speakers. Chase _really was good._  
Chase looked up from his lap, staring at House. Thinking of those days, they were pure bliss. But with the wonderful memories came the horrible ones. The ones where he decided not to make a career out of music. The ones that involved his father.  
As the violin slowly faded away and the music stopped House brought his gaze up to Chase's. For once, he was speechless. He didn't know what to say. There weren't many rude things he could say about this, and he wasn't about to have a gooey moment with Chase. House shuddered at that thought. He just wasn't sure what to say. Luckily for him, Chase spoke up.  
'Is that all?' He asked. He didn't sound annoyed, he didn't sound exasperated, in fact, Chase sounded remorseful, sorrowful. His eyes were back on his lap, downcast, and his demeanour had changed.  
House simply nodded, turning back to the screen to face a short haired, smaller, skinnier Chase. Besides the size difference, the man sitting across from him and the violinist were the same and one. It was the eyes and the face. They were still the same ten years later.

--

Standing there, the polished, yet worn surface of the wood staring back at him. Feeling the smoothness of it under his fingers so poised for attack. Soft and laid back, loud and commanding, connected, smooth, harsh, sharp, mysterious, dissonant, flowing, grand, mournful, he could make them all if he

wanted. He is in control, and for the duration of their togetherness, the violin and him are this being that can truly be _anything_, so long as he makes his fingers do what the violin tells him, what the _music_ tells him.  
Chase hadn't thought of his past musical experiences in years, not until today. Chase closed his eyes, letting the bow float over the strings. Absolute and utter silence greeted his ears. With his eyes closed he felt vulnerable, but he left them closed. Slowly, he brought the bow down across the strings, creating the start to Beethoven's Violin Sonata.

_'No son of mine will ignore me!' _

Chase opened his eyes wide and struck a wrong note, creating a horrid note on the instrument. He let a angry breath out and set the violin down, ending the beautiful piece. He couldn't play it, not now, not while the memories were so fresh.  
He entered his kitchen in the small yet cozy apartment he owned and got a glass of water. Chase was dressed in some jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Returning to the living room, he sat on the couch and sipped at the drink. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Chase opened his eyes, not realizing he had shut them. He screwed his face up, wondering who on God's green Earth would want to visit him, let alone at 11 at night on a friday. Chase sighed and called to the door, 'Coming!'.  
He stood up and walked over, turning the knob and cracking the door to see who was waiting.  
_What?!_ was all he could think as lo and behold, none other than the cynical House stood before him.  
'Uh,' Chase managed as he opened the door properly.  
'Not even gonna invite me in?' House said incredulously. 'Do they do things differently Down Under, or are Aussie's just assholes?'  
Chase shook his head, making sure this wasn't a hallucination. 'Umm, sure, come in.' He was too dazed to even notice the insult House had just delivered.  
As he shut the door behind him and turned back, Chase noticed House had already jumped onto the couch, seemingly at home.  
'Um, is there anything you want House? I mean, don't you, I don't know, hate me and wish for our contact to be as humanly little as possible?' Chase asked rudely, walking back towards House.  
'Aw, no reason to get snippy now.' The older man said just as rudely.  
Chase sat in a chair across from the couch, trying to deduce House's true motives. He noticed that House was eyeing the violin set down on the coffee table. Chase finally put two and two together and smiled.  
'Oh. I see.' He said plainly, leaning back and crossing his arms. House looked up, seemingly just noticing Chase. Behind the sarcastic mask of indifference House always wore, Chase saw puzzlement.  
'You figure something new out about me. It's another piece to the enigmatic puzzle that I am. You figure you can come here, get me to share all my secrets with you, just so you can amuse yourself and solve this little game you've created for yourself. I'm just here for your entertainment. Once you weedle what information you need out of me, maybe we can braid eachother's hair too?' Chase said with false enthusiasm.  
House was a little shocked. He didn't even think Chase had half the backbone to say that to him, let alone the smarts to throw in a rude comment at the end. Here had said a little over a sentence to Chase and the man was already pissed. _Oooh, I've struck a nerve, definitely worth investigating. _House thought

devilishly.  
'You caught me, Chase. I'm just so _interested in you. _I mean, the world _does_ revolve around you, doesn't it?' House said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  
Chase shook his head smiled. Not the happy sort of smile. The annoyed, tight smile, that screamed 'fuck off'.  
House wasn't in the mood to play games though. 'Why did you quit?' He asked bluntly.  
'Quit what?' Chase asked, the anger still evident in his voice.  
It was House's turn to be rude. 'Don't be stupid,' he said harshly, sneering. He then softened his expression once more.  
Chase stuck his lip out subconsciously, looking like a five year-old pouting. He leaned back into the chair, his arms crossed, obviously defensive. He didn't answer House. It wasn't because he was too stubborn or didn't _want _to answer. It's that he didn't know _how. _  
House was about to call it quits and just give up on an answer and leave. He reached for his cane as Chase answered quietly.  
'I didn't quit.' He repeated. House set his cane back down on the cushion beside him.  
'Then what _did _you do?'  
Chase bit his lip, dropping his hands to his lap, trying to put his thoughts in order.  
He lifted his head, meeting House's piercing blue eyes with his own stunning blue/green ones.  
'Why do you even care?' he asked suddenly, his Australian accent thick.  
Now it House's turn to be stumped. He _didn't_ know why he cared so much. Maybe it was because he was talented in the piano, yet had given up his opportunity in that for medicine. Maybe he thought Chase did the same thing too. Maybe he was just attracted to that music. The way that Chase had played so passionately, _so perfectly_, with such grace, had managed to convey all hid love for music in one simple bow stroke.  
Chase turned his head and gazed out the window to the darkness. He hated opening up to people. It had never, ever ended well for him to actually share what was going on underneath. He tried to be honest with Cameron, look where that got him. He had loved his mother unconditionally, put his trust in her, look what happened there. Every person he had confided in had stabbed him in the back or turned on him. So what made House so different? He was abrasive, extremely rude, practically hated Chase, they had nothing in common, House was an asshole, a selfish bastard, and couldn't care less about Chase's personal life. Given these reasons, Chase had no idea why he answered House.  
'It was my dad.' he said simply.  
House snorted. Of course this had something to do with Rowan. Father's had a way of messing things up, he knew from experience.  
'As long as I can remember,' Chase continued, standing up and walking to the window, gazing out onto the street lamp. 'All I ever heard was that I was growing up to be a doctor. I wanted so bad to please my father that I went along with his planned future for me. But after Mum and Dad split up, I started to think for myself. I knew that I had a talent, I knew that I could easily make a life, a career, out of music.'  
Chase paused, rubbing his face with his hand. He had _no idea_ why he was revealing all this to House. Chase expected House to interrupt him any second and throw in something rude and call it a day. Chase glanced at said jerk but noticed that House seemed genuinely sincere. He was actually curious about Chase's personal life.

Chase turned back to the window. 'But after the divorce, my father left nothing for my mum and I. We were broke, mum drank drank herself into oblivion and I was left to take care of her, hold down a job, and go to school. I continued playing, because it's what I thought I would do with my future. When I was 16 my mum died, and I was left on my own. That's when I joined the seminary, hoping that at least God wouldn't turn on me and leave me too. I was confused. I didn't know what I wanted. All the years of pretending to play doctor had impacted me. I began thinking seriously of medicine. At 18, my father offered to pay my way through medical school, to come live with him and become a doctor.'  
Chase turned blazing eyes on House. Latent anger, surfacing now after years, was present.  
'I take it you took his offer.' House deducted.  
'No.' Chase answered.  
House was slightly taken aback. 'But, umm, here you are before me, a doctor.' House said, again sarcastic.  
Chase didn't even flinch at the usual tone of his boss. 'I spent the summer after graduating thinking things over. What I wanted with my life, where I wanted to go. I decided that medicine was what I truly wanted. But I did it on my own accord, on my own.'  
Things clicked in House's head. The way that Chase had worked NICU and insisted to him of his finances.

_'I'm not rich.'_

Chase had said that because he wasn't rich. He must have taken massive loans out to make it through medical school, which explained his need for money and his crappy little apartment. And with being cut out of his father's will, Chase really wasn't rich.  
'So, after ten years of music, what? you just up and decided that you really did want to be a doctor after all? To spite your father?' House asked harshly.  
Chase glared at his boss, directing his attention to the window once more. He didn't answer House, but the truth was that he was right. One reason Chase had decided to follow medicine was to prove his father wrong. He could do it damn well, and he could do it damn well _on his own_. There was much more to the decision than that, but Chase realized that he wanted to make a difference in the world. After fruitless attempts to change his mother, he felt he had no control over his life. His parents splitting up, his mother drinking, his father leaving, his mother dying. Nothing was in his control. The music was, but that was different. Chase had realized years ago that if he decided to spend his life devoted to music, there would never be an end to it. He would just continue with it forever, never impacting anyone or anything. But being a doctor was amazing, it was totally in his control. And he loved it, he loved the rush, the whole idea that he was the one changing lives, everything about the job. Well, except for certain employers named House.  
House knew that sharing time was over and he wouldn't get anything else out of Chase. Still, a little bit of the puzzle had been solved tonight, but that bit had just shown House how much more of the puzzle he had been oblivious too. This opened up more questions, more pieces of the puzzle. He had put the last piece of the tree on the puzzle, but that showed him he needed the rest of the forest to complete it. It would never end would it?  
House stood, leaning heavily on his cane. He took a few steps, but then turned back to Chase.  
'Chase,' House said softly, almost with _care._

Chase turned from the window to gaze at House. His eyes were softer now, not holding the angry edge they did before. They were again, what House had seen in his office: sad.  
'Play something,' House said, more like requested.  
'House, I-' Chase stopped. He didn't know what to feel. So many emotions from the past. Talking with House had helped a little, but there were so many repressed feelings he didn't know where to start.  
Before he knew what he was doing, Chase nodded slowly, more to himself.  
He walked to the table in the middle of the room, and picked up the violin and bow. Just as House had imagined, Chase gracefully swept the instrument up and put it in place. His fluid movements were the result only years of disciplined playing could perfect.  
House watched with interest as Chase took a deep breath and closed his eyes with concentration.  
Chase had been practicing an incredibly difficult piece lately, and no better time to play it than now. Letting a breath out he sharply began the fast-paced and harsh Tartini's Devil Trill Sonata. Chase quickly delved into the antagonizing piece, creating emotions along with notes. Rushing, passionate, the song was born under the fingers of Robert Chase. It was a long piece, but House seemed to enjoy every minute of it. The soft melody died down but then emerged again. Then it evolved into the capturing trills that seemed to be dissonant but yet still fit perfect. Chase was nearing the end and his fingers, aching, flew away to catch the tricky unisons yet he nailed it perfectly. The sharp notes of the ending seemed to fit his mood perfectly. The song was more like a mood swing actually, perfect actually.  
House watched in awe as Chase played flawlessly, every note there for a specific reason and purpose. House, being a musician, could recognize the difficulty of this song, and despite his nature, he was impressed. The end of the song was subdued, yet left an impression on the listener.  
Letting out a breath he was unaware he was holding, Chase deftly lowered the violin and held it at his side. He looked at House. Chase couldn't read House's expression at all, so he was a little put off.  
'That song,' Chase began, setting the violin in it's case with care. 'The Devil's Trill Sonata by Giuseppe Tartini, it has an interesting story behind it. Tartini was said to dreamt of meeting the Devil and the Devil asked him to be his servant. At the end of the dream, Tartini tested the Devil's skills by handing him a violin. The Devil played with such grace and ability that it took his breath away. Upon waking up he composed this song, but felt it didn't even compare to what the Devil really played. Guess none of us can live up to the Devil's violin playing.'  
House had never seen Chase talk so much of his own volition. He smiled nonetheless, agreeing that it was an interesting background to the song.  
'I don't know, Chase.' House said, walking to the door and opening it. 'I don't- well.' House hesitated. God, was he going to get hell from Wilson for acting civilized. 'Chase, you are amazing, you really have a talent.'  
Chase was stunned enough to stare wide eyed at House. _House... Complimented me? Dear Lord, have I died? Is this some joke? House? Nice?  
_'With the playing you just exhibited Chase,' House said, stepping into the hall, smiling misheviously. 'You may as well be the Devil.'

**A/N: I've never done a House fanfic before... wanted to start off sorta light! I myself am a musician so I hope I know what I'm talking about with this stuff... Anyway, I'm not sure, what did you think? Good? Bad? Ugly? Delete it??**

**I apologize for the crappy format this ended up in. The computer I wrote this on had a word program that fanfiction didn't support so I had to tweak around and I can't fix how it looks! Sorry!**

**HELP WANTED: If you would like to collaborate on a House story with me involving some Chase whumping goodness, please mention it in a review because I never check my email! **


End file.
